Divine Blood
by skyflower51
Summary: Alduin is dead, and Tamriel is at peace. But now the ships begin to land, ships bearing invaders from a land beyond Tamriel, and their only purpose is conquest. As Skyrim burns, the Dragonborn's grandson must leave behind all he knows, for only he can end the conflict. But his journey takes him far from home, into the invaders' kingdom, to the land that holds the answers - Akavir.


**Hello there and _drem yol lok,_ readers!**

 **Now, I expect you're here for one of two reasons: you either saw this story in the TES archives and decided to give it a try, or you've come here from its prequel, _Dragonheart._ Please don't be put off if you're part of the former group! This story is indeed the third installment of a trilogy, but I intend to try as hard as I can to make sure it can be read on its own - it doesn't directly follow on from the plots of its predecessors, _Night Eye_ and _Dragonheart._ It's merely set in the same AU world, and features some of the same characters. In this prologue, I think most of the features of the AU will be explained, and I'll set out a few more in the A/N at the end.**

 **I don't think it's a spoiler to state that this story features Akavir, one of the other continents on Nirn apart from Tamriel - you probably read that in the story summary. Of course, there's very little information out there about Akavir. I've researched as thoroughly as I can, using everything I can find from in-game books and from what's on the wikis. Everything I didn't know I've filled in with best guesses and pure imagination. Bear in mind that this story is set several centuries after _Skyrim,_ so my vision of Akavir isn't the same as the world presented through game books. As much as I can, I've tried to create a picture of this continent in a way I think it can fit into the Elder Scrolls world. I'm really excited to write about it, and I hope you enjoy visiting it.**

 **I think that's everything I need to say for now! I hope you enjoy the story.**

* * *

DIVINE BLOOD

* * *

PROLOGUE

Darkness hung over the jagged hills like an inkstained tapestry. The night was clouded, and banks of grey mist hid the stars from view. The steps to the Mountain Throne were lined with frost, a thin silver film that sparked like embers in every place the lamplight fell.

Vashur Nokai walked with a brisk but careful stride, casting his lantern over every step before he placed his feet upon it. His boots left patches of melted water on the stones as he moved, a trail of dark prints among the silver frost crystals, and every breath he took sent a plume of steam drifting away into the night ahead of him. It was the Dragon Emperor's decree that any who wished to come to the Mountain Throne must do so on foot. Nokai knew that the rule had been made so that any visitors were forced to fully appreciate the length of the steps and the sheer height at which the Dragon Palace was built, but all the same, it had been a sensible order as well as a self-satisfied one. No horse could have kept its balance on this path, not in this weather.

With every step Nokai took, the lights in the distance grew nearer and brighter. The last few hundred steps leading to the Palace were lined with iron braziers on either side; slave attendants kept them burning through the night and doused them in the morning. Nokai quickened his pace, eager to be among the heat and the light again. He was used to making the long journey from Kan Eon to the Mountain Throne, but it didn't make it any more pleasant, especially in midwinter. The only blessing was that it wasn't snowing.

That, and that he had good news to deliver.

He reached the final stretch, and let out a contented sigh as the warmth of the fires on the pathside fell on his fur. Here and there, slaves could be seen heaping more wood onto the braziers. Nokai wrinkled his nose at the sight of these creatures so unlike him, even as he smiled at the way they stopped their work to bow as he passed. They knew who he was, of course. To have charcoal-coloured fur was not unheard of among the Ka'Po'Tun, but it was rare, and none but himself, Nokai was sure, could boast such striking black stripes that showed against the dark grey, nor such piercing yellow-green eyes. And besides, who else wore the dark red tunic of the Tun'Gar, its dragon emblem shimmering in its golden thread, along with the black gauntlets of the Loremancers, and the intricately carved pauldrons that marked him as one favoured by the Emperor? Who else would walk these steps so confidently, head held so high, eyes so devoid of fear? Who else among all the Ka'Po'Tun had a helmet that bore two holes, allowing the horns of a dragon to show through?

No one. No one in all Akavir came close to resembling Vashur Nokai in any way, and that truth was what made him stand before the gateway to the Dragon Palace without feeling a whisper of fear.

The Dragon Palace had been built into the mountainside, the slaves carving out rock from the cliff and then using the same stone to create the structure leading out from the sheer grey face. The result was a place that was half building and half cave. Beyond the great iron doors, embroidered with gold designs in the shapes of dragons and flames, a stone corridor lead to the headquarters of the Tun'Gar, a different route to the base of the Loremancers, another to the sanctum of the Shadowhands. But while Nokai had his different affiliations with – not to mention uses for – all these groups, he would not be heading towards any of them tonight.

The entrance to the Palace seemed at first sight to be manned only by two warriors; armed to the teeth, but apparently alone. A quick glance upwards, though, revealed the stone balcony jutting out from the cliff where four more sent stern gazes downwards, gaps in the floor providing a means to fire arrows or spells down at any suspicious visitor. Every one of the guards had a bell within easy reach, ready to summon reinforcements at a moment's notice. The towers built against the Palace wall gave a clear view of the mountain path, and thus of anyone who tried to climb it. And within the Palace walls lived the strongest warriors of the three most powerful orders in all Akavir, all of them willing to die for the Dragon Emperor. It would take an army to assault the Dragon Palace- an army of madmen, because nobody else would ever dare to try.

Nokai nodded in approval as the two guards at the gate aswept their spears across the entrance to block his path. 'Battlemaster Nokai,' one said, somehow managing to bow low while keeping his weapon raised. 'What business brings you to the Dragon Palace?'

'I go to the Mountain Throne,' Nokai replied smoothly. 'I have a report to make to the Emperor.'

Any other man might have been forced to wait at the gate while the guards sent someone inside the Palace to double-check that what he said was true, but no one would stop the right hand of the greatest being on all Nirn. The guards bowed again, lowering their spears. 'Go on with honour, Battlemaster. May the flame spread to you.'

 _It already has,_ Nokai thought with a smile, lifting a hand to his horns.

'Open the gate!' one of the gatekeepers demanded, and there was a clang of bolts being drawn back. Nokai swished his tail impatiently. He understood that the Palace entrance needed to be kept secure, but sometimes the ridiculous amount of time it took to open the gates tried his patience.

Soon, though, they were swinging open, allowing him to move past into the stone hall beyond. More guards lined this place, spears in their hands, swords at their belts, bows slung over their backs. They gazed ahead with practised, even expressions, not moving a whisker, though if any of them happened to catch Nokai's eye they instantly bent over in a bow.

Soon, the smooth ceiling of the hallway gave way to rock as Nokai entered the part of the Palace built into the side of the mountain. Here, the appearances of the guards changed. Before, they had been clad in the grey-plated, gold-trimmed armour of the elite guard; now, they were clad in red tunics emblazoned with a gold dragon, the same design that Nokai wore so proudly. These were the Tun'Gar, the chosen officers of the King, the commanders of the Ka'Po'Tun army. Despite the respectful nods they gave him, Nokai felt contempt curl in his belly as he stalked past them. Tun'Gar should be out at the heads of their troops, training the young, preparing them for what was coming. If these men and women were not doing so, it meant they had not been given command of a legion, and that meant they were unworthy of command. Yes, they were most likely new appointees, but he himself had been leading troops against the rebels days after his appointment to the Tun'Gar.

Besides, the horns these people wore were part of their helmets. Decorations. They would never earn horns that were part of their flesh.

At the head of another flight of steps, another door awaited, this one made from pure ebony. The dragon's head symbol set into it in silver was polished to perfection, and the guards on either side bore no weapons, nor did they wear any armour. They were dressed in the black and gold robes and night-coloured gauntlets of the Loremancers. These men, Nokai felt a little more kinship with; this was the order that had raised him to glory, had shaped him into himself. These people had given him more than he could ever have achieved among the Tun'Gar – a chance to taste the Flame.

'Battlemaster.' The Loremancers bowed too, though there was more warmth in their voices than there had been in those of the ordinary guards. 'Welcome.'

'I hope you come with good news for his majesty,' one of them remarked, moving to unlock the door – these people didn't need to ask Nokai his business. 'He's been waiting for it. And for you.'

'His wait is over.' Nokai's whiskers twitched. 'I'll make certain the news is given to the Loremancers if the King allows. You shall need it.'

With grateful nods, the two pulled open the doors, revealing a narrow, winding passage carved into rock.

This was the final stretch of Nokai's journey. The path ahead was walked only by those lucky enough to be granted permission by the King, and they were few and far between. It was it only by sporadically placed torches, and even Nokai, who had travelled it a hundred times, found his legs aching from the steep upwards curve within minutes. On he went, through the cold and the dark and the musty, stale air, until at last the fur of his face was stirred by a breeze.

Nokai breathed in deeply, sucking in the outside air as he rounded the corner, reaching the place where the tunnel led out into the open. He was there, at last. He had come to the Mountain Throne.

The Throne was a natural formation. Thousands of years ago, Nokai had read, this mountain had been a volcano, its insides boiling with molten rock. That inner fire had long since died; the volcano was extinct, to the best of anyone's knowledge. Its crater now contained a shallow green-blue lake, its waters home to a few fish that didn't seem to mind the cold or the height. A few trees clung to the rocks. And a pathway wove around the side, halfway up the smooth, sloping cliff that formed the crater wall – a pathway that led to a vast pagoda, so tall that it would have taken twenty full grown Ka'Po'Tun warriors standing on each other's shoulders to touch the roof, and just as staggering in length. Like the Dragon Palace itself, it was built into the cliffside, so that it became a cavern. The front of its roof was decorated in carvings inlaid with pure gold.

This was the Mountain Throne. Home of Nokai's master.

Placed against the rock wall to the right of the tunnel exit was what looked like a long, curving white tube with gold bands around it, one end funnelled and one end tapering almost to a point. It was in fact a horn – the calling horn, as Nokai's master had dubbed it. Now, he set his lips to the tapered end and blew. A deep, resonant note echoed through the crater, the curved walls catching the sound and letting it ring up into the sky. Nokai stepped back, turning his gaze upwards, and waited.

His master didn't leave him waiting long.

Nokai's breath always caught in his throat at the sight, no matter how many times he was blessed with the chance to see it. His master, rising like the dawn over the ridge, head stretched out towards the sky, tufted tail lashing, hooklike talons raised and ready, wings spread out to fill the sky. Scales the colour of the sunset, striped with ebony black.

Vashur Nokai was Battlemaster of the Ka'Po'Tun Empire. He was a Loremancer, a Tun'Gar, the one and only Ka'Po'Tun living who had received the Flame. All bowed to him.

And here was the only creature in the world who did not. The only one Nokai bowed to. The one who, soon, all Tamriel would bow to.

Tosh Raka. Emperor of the Ka'Po'Tun. Ruler of Akavir. Rightful master of every creature on Nirn. A god of his own making.

'Master,' Nokai whispered, and sank to his knees.

As he pulled his helmet from his head and set it down on the stone in front of him, he felt the wind from his master's wings blowing stronger. And at last it stilled, as Raka slowed, lowering his vast, shining body down onto the rocks.

'Battlemaster Nokai.' The voice was as deep and strong as the sound of the calling horn. 'Rise.'

Nokai did so, but left his helmet on the ground. 'My lord Raka. I have news.'

'And I am glad to hear it.' The great dragon swept his tail in the direction of the pagoda. 'Come. I shall hear you from my throne.'

He leaped from the ledge, his wings carrying him across the crater in a few seconds. Nokai swallowed, collected his helmet, tucked it under one arm, and set off across the path. He walked as fast as he could without running; one did not keep Tosh Raka waiting.

'Tell me,' Raka commanded, as Nokai approached. 'Your spies – have they returned?'

'They have returned, master.' Nokai nodded slowly. 'And they bring good news.'

Raka settled down onto the sheltered stone under the pagoda roof, folding his tail over his paws. 'The bearers. Have they been found?'

'Not found, master. But they are there. They exist. The dragon blood returned, just as you arranged.'

The scaled face split into a smile. 'Of course. The rebels were too late to stop it, as I knew they would be.' He leaned closer to Nokai. 'And so it happened?'

'It happened, Lord Raka. Alduin returned. And… a Dragonborn was chosen.'

Raka threw back his head and let out a roar of triumph that made Nokai's ears ring. 'As I predicted! As I knew it would be!'

He lowered his head, fixing Nokai with a narrow gaze. 'So. The Dragonborn. Who are they? Tell me all, Nokai, and leave nothing out, even that which you believe I already know.'

Nokai breathed in deeply; this would be a long tale in the telling.

'She is a direct descendent of her ancestor,' he began. 'Alduin is dead now, my lord. On his first coming to Nirn, the Nord tongues banished him. In the year the Tamrielans call two hundred and one of the fourth era, he returned to the mortal plane. A Khajiit, an archer from the southern kingdom of Elsweyr, was the one to face him. Her name was J'shana. She came from a tribe known as the Tygra, and so J'shana Tygra was what she called herself.'

He paused, and at his master's nod, went on. 'This J'shana, young though she was, proved a match for Alduin. She faced him in Sovngarde and vanquished him. His body was destroyed – but she did not take his soul. Alduin's essence survived.'

Raka grunted. 'Of course it did. Continue.'

'J'shana had, from what my spies tell me, two children. She married one of those lizard folk – Derkeethus, his name was – and their son and their daughter had further children. Their line continued. Despite what happened.'

Raka had been listening with his eyes half shut; now they snapped open. 'What happened?'

'The Nords were as ice-brained as they were in the days they were at war with the Akaviri, master,' Nokai chuckled. 'For some reason they took it into their heads that to have a feline saviour was somehow a disgrace.'

'Fools.' Raka snapped his teeth. 'The dragon form is the most complete picture of perfection, but that of the feline is the only one that comes near to matching it. Though the Khajiit-folk do not have the power or grace of the Ka'Po'Tun, they have it in more abundance than the Nords.'

'A truth the humans failed to realise.' Nokai flicked his ears and went on. 'Many years after J'shana's death, the Nords set about destroying her legacy. Monuments to her were destroyed, books bearing her name burned, friends who remembered her put to the sword. Within a hundred years, people started to believe that the Dragonborn had been a Nord – or that she had never existed, that she was nothing but a myth.'

'But her bloodline,' Raka pressed him. 'What of the sons of her sons?'

Nokai raised his hand in a calming gesture. 'They went on, forgetting who they were descended from, but living still. You must forgive us mortals our feeble memories, master. Five hundred years passed. But all this time, Alduin was gathering in strength. Because his soul remained intact, not absorbed by the Dragonborn, he was able to return to Nirn. But a new Dragonborn had been prepared to face him. Another Khajiit girl, descendent of J'shana. Her name is A'jira Tygra.'

'A'jira.' Raka drew out the name, as if tasting its sound. 'And she defeated Alduin?'

'Yes. For good.'

'So the dragon blood is given to the mortal folk once again.' Raka closed his eyes. 'And she is the last bearer of it?'

'No, my lord. The Gods made it so that her fate closely mirrored that of her ancestor. Like J'shana, she took an Argonian husband. They have a daughter.'

'Her name?'

'She is named for her ancestor. She is J'shana, but my spies inform me she is known as Sha. To avoid confusion with the first J'shana, whose legacy has been restored. A'jira, you see, established an order in Tamriel. She made an alliance with certain dragons…'

Raka bared his teeth. 'Tamrielan dragons,' he snarled. ' _Weak_ dragons.'

'They do not carry the blood of their birthplace,' Nokai agreed. 'But the Dragonborn and her daughter have put them to good use. They have assembled mortal warriors, and dragons willing to set aside their rage and fight alongside them. This order is called out by the people of Skyrim to combat dragons who will not abandon Alduin's ways. They protect Skyrim's people – and of late, they have started to branch out into the other provinces. They have sections of the order in High Rock, Cyrodiil and Morrowind now.' Nokai's eyes narrowed. 'They call themselves the Dragonhearts.'

His master spat onto the stones. 'These warriors could be a threat. We must be prepared to face them.'

'And we shall by, my lord.'

'So, it is this A'jira, and her daughter? They are the only bearers?'

'Not quite.' Nokai pressed his hands together. 'A'jira is sixty-two years of age now. She is still able to be a strong warrior, but she is old enough to be a grandmother.'

Raka's eyes – pure, penetrating gold – lit up. 'To how many?'

'Two, master. Both sons. Their father is a Redguard man, but like most half-bloods, they are Khajiit. The elder is named Khavir, the young Kheyvo.'

Raka rose to his feet and began to pace up and down the length of the pagoda, doubling his sinuous body back on itself as he turned. Nokai watched him, knowing that this was what his master always did when deep in thought, and that he would speak again when he was ready.

At last, Raka stopped, and turned to face Nokai again.

'It begins now,' he said. 'This Dragonborn and her kin seem to think themselves protectors of the people. And there is one sure way to draw a hero out into the open.'

Nokai smiled and gave a low bow. His heart was racing, his fur pricking. This was what he had waited for, every moment of his sixty years. Here he was, his aging slowed by the power his master had blessed him with, his body strong as it had been when he was twenty, and stronger. Down below the mountain were his forces, waiting.

Akavir had been waiting too, waiting so long. But now, here, was the moment the eras of silence was over. The world was about to hear the Ka'Po'Tun's roar.

And he was bringing it about. He was seeing it happen – making it happen.

'I await your commands, Lord Raka,' he breathed.

The Emperor-god of the Ka'Po'Tun bared his teeth. 'Gather our forces, Battlemaster Nokai. Ready the ships. Sail for Tamriel. Unleash the storm of war. And bring me the bearers of the Divine Blood.'

* * *

 **I kind of like starting stories from the villains' point of view...**

 **So, Tosh Raka is part of the official lore, though no one knows really who he is or what he looks like. This is my interpretation of him; in later chapters, I'll describe him in more detail. The locations, groups and people mentioned here are all created by me, including Nokai. And yes, I will be answering the question of how he has dragon horns. And what the mysterious 'Flame,' is. And why Raka is so interested in people with dragon blood...**

 **Next chapter, we'll be returning to Tamriel... but not for some time. In my last A/N for _Dragonheart,_ I mentioned that I'm only uploading the prologue of this for now, because I have an immense amount of short stories I want to write for Skyrim, and also I really need to rewrite _Night Eye,_ the first installment in this series. This shouldn't take more than a month or two; I just wanted to get this up for now. The rest will come soon enough, I promise.**

 **For now, I hope you enjoyed this prologue, and that you're intrigued by the situation, Raka and Nokai! Thank you for reading. :)**


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